The cold night’s howling wind was touching my face during the ride on rolling wheels with thinking heart, on the roads of Minna—the western bypass.

I was with two eager eyes and two lonely palms when I left my sister’s café to you, somewhere around 8:45pm

Some minutes later I saw the gas station sitting at the peace of your neighborhood in that sunless dark hour with quiet moon in half majesty.

The gas station was scanty, maybe due to the hour.
And I saw that fruit-seller whose art of arranging fruits is always something to marvel upon.

I was glad to witness how great distance reduced into yonder, bringing two hearts closer.

I took a right turn, passed that small women saloon on the walkway,
Then down the road to your parents' house.

I saw you and finally my lonely palm held another lonely palm like we were reading love poems in the touch.
My eager eyes saw you—you walking art of the Divine.
I saw those brows and eyes that I placed above mine.

The cold you caught last week denied my ears the clearness of your voice, but my heart heard it all.
It was feminine, sweet, delicate, sweet, melodious, sweet. My best song is this voice, yes. It is sweet.

Seconds dissolved quickly, birthing minutes until I must say goodbye, and unhold, and unsee. I knew that closeness will again turn to yonder, and it will extend, and distance will be in between our hearts again.

Upon leaving I saw the headlights as they were uniting with the working streetlights of your neighborhood, unlike the faulty ones standing at my side of Minna.
A truck approached us and I crossed the road backwards, so I can watch you laugh and walk away.

That reckless act was done by the union of the romantic in me and my inner child. If it had led me to injuries or to freedom from mortality, wouldn't that have been a good way to go? From a night ride on western bypass to see you, to a soul’s night flight to heaven watching you.